16. Daddy Wilson

At the sound of a tap on my door, I remained focused on the whiteboard in my office. My guys were supposed to be doing their offseason workouts, not bugging the fuck out of me. In the last few days, every one of them had swung by. They’d caught wind that I was headed to UPenn and clearly wanted to put in their two cents. The majority of the team believed Quinn was getting his shit together, but I had my doubts. Still, we weren’t looking at the Quakers’ first baseman, not that I was admitting that to my guys. But Miller, Langfield, and I were heading to the Keystone State to scout the kid whose slider was on fire.

“I said not to bother me,” I snapped as I spun to the door.

Wren tightened her grip on the folder she was holding, her eyes widening. “What a way to greet a girl.”

“Shit.” I dropped the marker onto the metal ledge and ran a hand over my face. “I didn’t realize you were here. I thought one of my guys was back to piss me off again.”

Shoulders relaxing, she chuckled. “With that growl, I’m surprised they dare to come anywhere near you.”

“Ha ha.” I tried not to smile, but her surprise appearance instantly lifted my mood. We were in limbo, where she acted as if we were working together while I acted like she was my favorite person .

Truthfully I wasn’t actually acting. Very quickly, Wren had become my favorite person. I wanted to wake up to texts from her and think about her as I drifted off every night, which was pretty much what had happened over the last three days.

“Come sit.” I tilted my head, gesturing toward my desk.

Practically skipping in her knee-high boots, she made her way over. Her legs alone were the reason I allowed her to sit in my desk chair. Between the black stiletto boots and the short skirt, I’d probably agree to anything she asked right now.

Beaming, she drummed on the folder she placed on the desk. “I think I found the perfect space.”

Brows raised, I rounded the desk and rested an arm on the chair, anxious to see what she’d brought.

“It’s an apartment building, and right now, it doesn’t look like much.” Lip caught between her teeth, she peered up at me, her onyx eyes sparkling. “But the zoning is right, and it’s downtown. The best part? It used to be a single residence, so the added walls shouldn’t be load-bearing, meaning it’ll be relatively simple to remove them.”

With a hand splayed on the desk, I hovered over her and perused the paperwork. “It’s only a couple of blocks from the zoo.” Surprising, yet it would be convenient.

“I know.” Her tone was high-pitched and full of excitement. “It’s for sale, and some amazing person might have gotten us locked in for a tour tomorrow at nine.”

Shit. I hated to burst her bubble, so I did my best to school my expression.

“You hate it?” She sighed, peering up at me through those dark lashes. “Okay, cool. I got overly excited.”

I dropped to a squat in front of her and pressed a finger to her lips. “It looks perfect.”

Grasping my wrist, she yanked my hand down, and those plush lips formed a small pout. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not.” I chuckled. “But I’m leaving in an hour and a half, and I’ll be gone for the next two days.”

“Oh.” Brow knitted, she surveyed the room, her focus catching on my suitcase where it sat next to the sofa. “Can I go see it anyway? If I like it, maybe we can set up a second showing for next week?”

I expected her to be upset that I would be gone. Instead, she didn’t even seem fazed. In the past, I would have been irritated if the woman I dated pouted about my trip, but in this moment, I was sort of bummed she wasn’t the least bit sad.

“This works well, actually. I won’t embarrass myself by asking all kinds of dumb questions in front of you.” Wren twisted in my chair, but I grabbed the arm, stopping the movement.

“Don’t ever be embarrassed about what you say to me or in front of me.” I cupped her cheek. “I want to know all what you think.”

Her lips parted, but she didn’t respond. It took her a minute, but finally she swallowed. “Well?—”

“Oh, damn,” Beckett Langfield, the team owner, called from the open door. “Sorry. Didn’t realize you had company.”

Wren jerked away from me, and the chair whacked into the desk, sending her reeling forward with so much force she almost fell into my arms. Quickly, she shifted as far away from me as possible without scrambling out of the chair completely.

Frustration bubbled up inside me. “Do you knock?”

The question was pointless. No, Beckett didn’t knock. He went where he wanted and did what he wanted, then apologized later. The man might have been full of good intentions, but sometimes his execution was shit.

“Sorry.” At least Cortney Miller, the team’s general manager, looked remorseful. “The door was cracked a little. We didn’t realize you had company.”

“I should go.” Wren hopped out of the chair, snatching up the papers I hadn’t really gotten to look at. “Have a fun trip.” She shoved the disorganized pages into the folder, then scurried from the room.

Beckett tipped his chin at Wren, and when she was gone, he turned back to me, smirking. “I caught someone with their hand in the cookie jar,” he practically sang. “This is the best news of the week.”

Scowling, I pushed to my feet. I didn’t want him here, and because of his arrival, I hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye to Wren.

“Butt out,” Cortney muttered from beside him .

“You saw it.” Beckett shook his head. “His heart is taken. That’s why he’s ignored all the women I’ve tried to fix him up with.”

“Or, like I’ve been saying, he doesn’t want to be set up with high-maintenance women,” Cortney pointed out.

I didn’t want to be set up with any women, but Beckett never bothered with my opinion. Ever since the team’s owner had fallen head over heels for the former head of PR for the Revs, he’d been relentless about giving us all a chance at his type of happiness, whether we wanted it or not.

Beckett’s lips vibrated as he blew out his disagreement. “Red-bottom boots, manicured nails, perfect hair. A watch that cost more than mine. Man Bun, that chick screams high-maintenance. Now that I’m finished with Brooks and Bosco, this is my new project.”

Annoyance rippled like waves of heat beneath my skin. I better not be a fucking project. I would have to kill him.

Sighing, Cortney crossed his arms over his chest, a folder tucked under his elbow. “Fine. Get it all out. Otherwise I’ll never get to discuss Storms.”

“This is why you’re my best friend. Why I gave you the perfect wedding.” Beckett sank onto the sofa and rested an ankle on one knee.

I blinked at Miller for a couple of heartbeats. Wedding. That was right. I hadn’t seen the GM since he’d gotten married last weekend. “Congrats.”

Cortney’s eyes softened as his lips kicked up. “Thanks, man. It’s nice.”

“You should be thanking me for making it happen.” Beckett sat up a little straighter on the gray cushions.

“I should strangle you for last weekend,” Cortney huffed.

“I’ll tell Wilson the story and let him decide.”

“No you won’t.” Cortney held up a hand, the platinum band on his ring finger catching the light. “You can tell it another time, maybe on our one-year anniversary. Right now, the disaster you created is not what we should be focusing on.”

“You’re right, Man Bun. Our coach is in love. That’s the point.” Beckett turned back to me. “I want to know all of the details. Don’t leave anything out. ”

With a deep breath in, I sat in the chair Wren had vacated and rested my elbows on the desk. I met his eyes and waited. It took about two minutes for Beckett to sit back, shoulders slumping.

“Damn, now I know what the guys are talking about. You’re scary as duck.”

“Ducks are not scary.” Cortney’s man bun bounced as he shook his head and dropped onto the other end of the couch.

“Can we talk about Storms?” I asked.

“I’d love to.” Cortney flipped open his file. “I think he has potential to be what we’ve been looking for.”

Discussing a prospect was usually one of my favorite parts of this job. Today, though, my mind kept wandering back to Wren and the building she’d found. A part of me wished I could skip this trip to stay with her, and that was wild.